I Once did Dream
by Walking as Giants
Summary: The world is a big bright and beautiful place when you know how to look, and Fels is a small child learning how to do exactly that. Follow her on a series of short stories to reveal more about her world and yours!
1. Prologue

Prologue

Once Upon a Time, some idiot writer decided to write in Comic Sans, and would sue anyone who told him he couldn't. Regardless, there was probably some sort of story he was supposed to be telling, but instead he wasted his time saying hello to the reader who was brave enough to pick up a book where the first words were in Comic Sans. No, not first words, first paragraph! HAHA! Didn't see that coming did ya? Plot twists at its finest. Tolkein has nothing on some weirdo writing in Comic Sans! WOO! I've done good.

Wait! Don't go! There's still some story here! Hold on, let me just rummage through this… ok! Here it is! I left it under my variety of bills to pay. Ok. Let me dust it off it a bit it smells like fruit. Why does it smell like fruit? Ugh. Should toss that bits of orange out. That's disgusting. Anyway, after about two paragraphs of pointless chatter with the author which wasted everyone's time, here is the story! Cue the music! Cue the lights! Cue the…queue?

Once Upon a Time…

Wait nope, that was a receipt for pizza. Oh here it is!

Once Upon a Time….

The Wesker Woods were wrought with wintery wrath, snowlight dripping from crying trees and a solemn quiet that ate away the chasmic echoes of weeping. The crunch of snow and smell of overgrown ice. With each step the black boots took, the sinking feeling overwhelmed her and the branches that surrounded her. Even though the woods begged her, whined for the boots to sink further into the bottomless snow, she didn't stop to smell the frozen roses.

What could those boots possibly be keeping in tact? Why bother keeping away the wet and pathetic cold of the woods? Why save yourself from the desperate calls of despair? Who are you venturing to red one? Who are you humming to admongst your inevitable tears? Give in… Break free of joy… Let the crying trees be watered by your despair…

Fels didn't care. The woods were just a pathway to somewhere else. Someplace worse maybe? Or better? What was she thinking? What was going through her mind? I don't know. She had somewhere to go obviously. Without somewhere to be, something to detract her from the detrimental roots, how would she possibly survive, and stop herself from indulging in succumbing to the shadows of the woods? They ate everything. All it took was a push to lead someone into the tears that followed.

The Pit awaited Fels, a black void that spread for as many meters as souls inside. As more joined the bounty, it expanded and grew for every soul lost in the woods. How unfortunate for her to walk there, to view over the side of that abyss and still be alright with the view. How dilapidated do you have to be? Fels smiled at the view, cocking her head at the big black pool of darkness. How curious. She put one boot forward, the blue rubber a strange glimmering in the woods, and walked on the pit. It couldn't claim her. It couldn't reach up and grab the color. She smiled joyfully all the way, pushing the pit away, as she neared the center. Fels didn't sink. Her smile wouldn't let her. This isn't universal you know. Smiles aren't always real joy and happiness. People love to lie about those things.

Fels sat down in midair, curling out a knapsack from the undertoes of her cloak. After freeing the knapsack of its mortal bonds, she feasted on the red pus and juices of the seeds of youth, enriching her mouth with the crimson of berries.

She sat on a big scary hole and ate jelly beans. Was that too much to say?

After three thousand, six hundred and two grisled seconds of gnawing and chewing, scraping her teeth along fruited molts of blue, green, and yellow, she was joined by a passenger of grotesque nature, a ooze of snowy hair slithering down from the depths, a grey husk of flesh carrying around like the weight of humanity. Tears spilt from the slices in her face, breaking into the cloth she bore from the tangent of horror.

Fels acknowledged the beast, which might have been Miss Taken. The knapsack was captured once again into the ward of Fels' folds, and the smile was unfaded as she trekked to her feet. Run child. Flee. You cannot free yourself from angst. It eats away and consumes your nature—STOP HUGGING IT!

Fels bounded towards the Miss Taken, bending outward from her robed to hook the monstrosity around its torso, dragging it closer and cramming her young skull against its bosom. The color from her face was toxic, leaking onto the behemoth and causing a rash of life. This predicament surely was wretched in its own right. The development must be scoured and ripped away, eaten and wasted away into the chasm of the forgotten.

Miss Taken haunched her maw over Fels, hacking her back forward and extending marks of her anxiety around the child, the bright and disgusting compassion infecting her and poisoning her mind. Such was not allowed in these woods, but what can I say? Love is a foreign species here that has no natural predators…yet. And as the dripping rags around her arms hissed away into a woolen shell, Miss Taken reclaimed part of her former self, molten care invigorating her cloth and silk wrapping around her bones.

The color in her face gave her back a smile, and that smile was all that kept her afloat on the pit. It was as genuine as Fels', but she still retained some gray of the former thoughts. A face of plaster looked down at the child, like a mask to assure herself. The face below that looked back at her was flesh and blood, warm and pleasant.

And after three stinking pages, we finally get our first bit of dialogue. That only took what, thirty minutes?

"Hi Mom!" Fels beamed up at Miss Taken. It was a clean song, not cruded by unnecessary halves and wholes. Not burdened by the heavy weight of reality. Her face was the same, sheltered by a red hijab that fell down into a long red cloak that covered her limbs and had no sleeves to puncture forth hands or knees. It was tired together with a yellow string that held the seams in place, and coiled up to a small green fez with that same yellow string. Of course, recalling these details were unnecessary, but it's silly having a tiny 11-year old protagonist that looks like a face with some boots at the bottom. This isn't a videogame where all you can see of someone is the gun they're shooting out of. I'm sorry, we've gotten sidetracked.

"Hello Sweetie…" Miss Taken greeted the innocent, a single piano note played over again, the succubus of monotony. A repetitive strike from a spoon that bruised, always harming, never killing. But with a hacking sensation, and a belittling attempt, she urked another response, "What have you been doing today?"

Fels was all too eager to respond. She used to be hesistant to ask, given the agony her mother endured from smiling again. After many moons, however, she had reached the inevitable conclusion that these interactions, however the torment, were the only possible rock in the pond, the only ripple that kept her mother from fading into the pit completely. The determination and agony of living permitted her to stay just a little longer until her only fruitful memory was safe.

"I picked some white flowers today!" Fels burst, not the least to the surprise of her mother. Miss Taken hmmed, the closest she got to a laugh or a chuckle these days. "Is that so?"

"Mmm hmm!"

"Well that sounds delightful. I was always a fan of yellow flowers myself. They were quite delightful while I had them." She shook her head sadly, but kept up the smile for her child. The hope Fels hadn't noticed would be infathomable to anyone though. And so the child released Miss Taken from her hold and proudly stood up, beaming with a newfound idea, "Did you lose them?"

"Yes…it's alright though. Someone gave me some orange ones to make up for it."

"That's not the same! You want yellow flowers. Because they're pretty! Like you!"

"I would love that."

"I'll go and get some for you!" Fels declared, swiveling on one foot and kicking outward to prepare for the next adventure, but a mourning arm held her back. "No. It's alright! Go get yourself some yellow flowers. I'll be ok here. They're an awfully long way."

"No. I will get you some too! Everyone deserves yellow flowers because everyone likes flowers." She laughed, then added awkwardly, "Even if they have allergies."

Miss Taken knew there was nothing she could do to stop Fels. Everyone went out to find something someday, but she couldn't help but feel her rag begin to droop down again as she slowly melted closer into the pit. In terror, she snatched Fels and buoyed off her, while she slowly began to go under into the great big black. Color returned to her face, but at what cost, as some of the color faded from Fels as she waded through the black brine of the pit.

"Hey! Stop!" Fels ordered the woman, who released her, stopping the child from sinking further into the pit with her. Miss Taken apologized, "I'm sorry…go find some yellow flowers! I'm proud of you."

Fels firmly agreed and bent down to give her mother a peck on the cheek before skipping on the big black to its outer rim. She looked back at her mother and waved, the folds of her robes creasing into triangles around her limbs. The snow that was once deep around her boots now barely scratched them, like she was walking on air. It was impossible not to identify that feeling within her, that alien emotion to this place.

Miss Taken waved back, tears once again flowing down her face as she stared out at her beloved Fels. It's impossible to describe the emotion a parent feels when their child leaves the nest. Or maybe it is, and I am not capable of describing it since I am not familiar with the sensation. I have no children of my own and I doubt a fish named Franklin counts. However, I can tell you that Miss Taken lost the color from her face again, and resisted falling into the pit so she could see her daughter leave.

Four long fingers and a clawlike thumb put their hold around Miss Taken's arm, and she looked down. She knew she had to go. The nightmare Noirsserped loomed over her, red eyes staring her down and pulling her down like a bag of rocks back into the big sick spittoon of tears that was the pit in the Wesker Woods. Fels tried to ignore the demon that was Noirsserped, but some things were always there, like a nagging sensation or a report of progress, a bad memory. Something that would always scare and excite you to run or hide in a corner.

Describing the demon Noirsserped seems unnecessary. Every living creature knows it. They may call it by a different name, but they are familiar with the beast that will bring you down into a hovel and keep you there until the rest of your miserable life. However long or short that may be.

Fels left the Woods with an absence of nothing. A purpose to perpetuate herself into the world and allow her to set out into the great wide open. This destination was her guide, as she would seek the adventures ahead, however good or bad. But, for the sake of ease I assure you that nothing here is good and bad except for the emotions that guide us. So, our story begins, as the reality of a fantasy unfolds, and our protagonist sets out into a world she and the reader will both learn more about.


	2. The Cat Fisherman

The Cat Fisherman

Heddlemen Valley was a large open area that closely resembled an ocean, with the flowing hills and blue flowers passing along the wind, and a spring breeze that would blow through, forcing the many flowers up and down again with a crash against the outer sands of yellow grass that surrounded the plains. Occasionally a large mole could be seen swimming through the flowers as a reminder that life did in fact, exist out in that big blue glomp.

Fels shuffled through the yellow crass surrounding the field of flowers and would watch as the blue waves splashed some white flowered foam from underneath onto the shore, before draining back into the undertow of the meadow. A few mantis scattered about along the yellow grass, digging themselves little holes and submerging themselves in the reeds as soon as Fels got closer. One even tried to nip her boot as she strolled through the grass, before giving up on the task to instead burrow beneath the flow.

The smell of freshly grazed ocean was in the air, an odd combination of wet dew and pollen. It floated along to Fels and flew up and away towards a big lighthouse made of a giant plant pot. The lighthouse had one beacon at the top that spun around and around, as vines grew from its clay top down to the bottom where a giant matchbox made up a house. Following a set of stairs was a way up to the house, but also a dock made of mathsticks that stretched out into the sea where an old cat could be seen napping, fishing pole in hand.

Fels recalled her quest, to find yellow flowers for her mum back at the pit. Upon further recollection and investigation, by looking around the very clear blue sea of flowers, there weren't any yellow ones nearby. She decided instead to climb the matchstick stairs to where the old cat was napping up ahead. The dock was mostly intact, with a few holes in the wood from mantis' incessive digging. Some white flowers had grown along the support beams, sprinkled like barnacles where the water had climbed during high wind.

She didn't want to be rude and disturb the old tom cat. With his hair greying and belly round, and a tweed jacket round his paws, he looked very fluffy and huggable. Everyone was huggable, even porcupines, with enough effort. However, she was always told that hugging needed consent, and if you hug people randomly, it was considered saxophone harassment. Fels didn't know what saxophones had to do with hugging, she didn't know how to play, but they must be a little alike she supposed. Unfortunately, since she wasted so much time thinking about hugging woodwind instruments, the cat still was unaware of her presence, and carried on snoring and snoozing, which is less surprising when you consider that's typically what cats do in their free time. However, what a cat was doing in a captain's hat with a fishing pole still seemed out of place.

Fels chose to invest herself in the project of finding out what on the planet was a cat doing here, fishing in a fake ocean. She tiptoed up to him and looked at the fishing pole, its string submerged into the flowers below, with a little bob floating along. She then turned back to the tomcat, whose big orange grey moustache rose and fell with each sleepy breath. It was rude to stare, but it was also too extraneous not to notice. It would be wise to awaken him in a calm and orderly. Unfortunately, Fels was neither of those things, so she instead elected to awaken him to the song of her people.

"WAKE UP!" She leapt up shouting, waving her limbs about like a starfish. The old cat stirred, reluctantly peeling his eyes open, furrowing his eyebrows and letting his green eyes look out over the horizon before finally settling on Fels. He opened his jaw, stretching out his jaw out for a furry yawn that showed his big feline teeth. He reaffirmed his grip on the fishing pole, but leaned forward so he could address the newcomer.

"Yes Yes! I am quite awake!" He shuffled to keep his eyes still open until finally he coughed and recovered his senses. His voice was like reading a book all about making toothpicks. "Oh. I say. What are you doing here young lady?"

"I could say the same for you! Why are you trying to fish at a flower ocean?" Fels shook her head and pointed outward where the sky met the waves, and foam collected up and over. The old pussycat harrumphed, upset he had been awoken following a lovely dream about little red dots he chased when he was but a kitten. But, this young child had been bold enough to not only awaken him from his slumber, but ask why he was here, and it was his duty as an old person to tell the youth what they were doing wrong. First things first, introductions were necessary!

"Now, I'll tell you, but you must know you shouldn't wake up people when they're napping. I am Mousehole. Who are you, and who told you it was alright to disturb people while they were sleeping?" The cat, who is now clarified to be named Mousehole, inquisited. Fels stood by her decision now, just because she could and she was too stubborn to let some old cat tell her what to do. This may be why old cats didn't usually talk to her. Not that she's ever met any old cats before. Or cats that are this size on that same note. However, she reached the conclusion it would be more fruitful for her own wellbeing if she answered the question.

"My name is Fels and I told myself it was ok to wake up people while they were sleeping." She thought the reply suitable. Mousehole on the other hand, did not, and instead rustled his mustache and poffed, "Well, that clears that up then doesn't it?"

Fels was old enough to understand sarcasm. It's not like it was hard to find amongst the masses. That was sarcasm, and living proof she could do it herself. Although being sarcastic was fun, the old cat probably wouldn't take kindly to it. His worldview was rather restricted in that way. Nevertheless, she elected to ask once again, "Why are you fishing in a fake ocean? There aren't any fish!"

"Ah! But that is where you are wrong young lady!" Mousehole corrected her, because that's what old people loved to do. He went into more detail, "All oceans have fish. That's the rule. Eventually this ocean will have fish! And when it does, I'll be right here! Waiting!"

Fels looked into the flowers below, then at the fisherman, then back at the flowers. With a heavy huff, she vocalized her opinion, "THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE!"

"Ah. But that is where you are wrong. It makes perfect sense. If it's not there now, and it has never been there, then it will be there eventually! So, I have elected to stay in this one spot all my life waiting for that thing to come. Waiting for my fish to come." He smiled proudly at his lack of accomplishment, and readjusted himself to the fishing pole. Meanwhile, Fels' jaw had hit the floor. She was dumbfounded in disbelief. How could anyone honestly believe that staying in one spot waiting for an opportunity was better than going out and finding that opportunity? It didn't make sense logically, and on a completely different note, fish don't live in flowers!

"It's a field of flowers! You won't find any fish in a spot where fish don't live. You need to get up and find them yourself." Fels burst out, but Mousehole was having none of that. "Now young lady. I'm pretty sure I know more about this than you do. I've been around a lot longer than you."

"But you've been here all your life!"

"Yes." Mousehole affirmed with a nod and a smile. "Now, how about you join me, and I might share some with you when I prove you wrong."

Fels blankly stared at him, then walked away, shaking her head, grumbling to herself, "Stubborn old cat."

"Suit yourself." Mousehole scoffed, returning to his fishing. He would eventually doze off, either due to starvation or out of spite. Fels on the other hand, made her way back down the matchstick stairs down to the yellow grass, kicking a few rocks for good measure and she nearly lost her temper. She really wanted to throw a tantrum. Here was her trying to help her mum and there was that old cat doing nothing but sit around on his butt expecting everything to be handed to him. After a little consideration, she remembered why she went up to talk to the old cat in the first place.

Did she really have to go back up to the dock and ask him where she could find some yellow flowers? He was rude and wouldn't listen to reason because he was too lazy to do anything with his life. Wasn't there anyone else around she could ask? If there was, they weren't nearby. As reluctant as she was to go back and ask, she climbed back up to the fishing dock, back up to the old cat.

Fels didn't know whether it was a relief to see him asleep again or if it was just obnoxious. Either way, he couldn't tell her where to find yellow flowers if he was sleeping. She shook the big fluffy butterball, startling him. Mousehole woke up a lot more annoyed than before, then looked down to see her again, "Young lady. We have got to talk about politeness! Come to your senses have you?"

"No. I wanted to know where I could find some yellow flowers. I don't see any around here." Fels explained. Knowing this guy, he would probably say the grass was yellow enough. While it was a good hunch, the cat answered simply, "I know where you can find some. I'll tell you where..."

"Really? Wh—" Fels asked, only to be interrupted by the Garfield knockoff.

"…as soon as I get my fish." Mousehole finished his sentence with a smug look heavily inspired by himself. Fels wanted to punch him, but she wasn't sure if she had fists under her cloak. She forced a smile through gritted teeth and articulated her words, "There aren't any fish in a flower field."

Mousehole replied with the same smug expression and tone he had taken not moments earlier. He coughed and said, "How unfortunate. Then I guess you'll never find those yellow flowers, hm? Maybe that will teach you younglings that you don't know everything."

Fels fantasized about this cat's death; In vivid detail. She would bring cake to his funeral. She wouldn't even have to blow out the candles because her first wish would already be a reality. She stomped away, kicking the matchbox house as she left. Her toe throbbed but it felt justified. She sat down on the wooden floor, then considered her options. She could give up, sit here and wait for the solution to fall in her lap like Mousehole, or she could do something so he gets a fish. Her intuition was directed to the barnacle flowers growing along the support beams of the dock. The next move was probably a bad idea, but what other choice did she have?

Fels collected the flowers off the supports and some yellow grass and began to knit a fish costume. With delicate grace, she admired her work. If you squinted really hard and poured vinegar over your eyes, it looked like a fish. She wasn't sure fish had that fin on that spot, but Mousehole had already proven himself to have a less than average perception of things. With all the efficiency of how a kid with a long robe would put on a fish costume, Fels donned the outfit. She felt stupid. She probably looked stupid. She was probably being stupid.

Hesitantly, she turned toward the blue waves of flowers and held her breath. Several thoughts went through her head as she dived in, most of them consisted of a mad panic and extreme disbelief that this was what her life had come to. Fels was submerged beneath the waves in an instant and hit the ground with a thud. The flowers were a lot shallower than she had perceived. The pain from diving face-first into the ground was enough affirmation of that. Thankfully she was still short enough to not be visible beneath the flowers, and she moved around the wind current without many problems. It was only then she also came to the realization she wasn't actually underwater, so she didn't have to keep holding her breath.

Beneath the surface of the petals was a world of blue darkness and lots of little molehills. She walked through to find the obvious hook of Mousehole's fishing pole swinging in the wind. The next course of action was to grab it with her mouth. Fels then concluded that this was a really bad idea, and instead elected to slip the hood of her costume onto the hook where it was yanking on her strings.

Mousehole awoke to something tugging at his fishing pole, and woke in a state of shock when he began to reel in the mighty fish. It was a beautiful relief. He had never thought! His fondest dream! His biggest achievement! He knows now what it feels like to have what he had always wanted! Twenty-one years of waiting! And now—Fels stared at him as she dangled from the hook. Mousehole blinked in disbelief, Fels blinked right back. This continued for an awkward minute.

"What are you doing?" Mousehole asked violently, nearly dropping his fishing pole into the flowers below, with Fels along with it. Fels reluctantly asked, "I take it my disguise isn't that great?"

"Disguise? You're scaring away the fishes with that outfit!" Mousehole spat and sputtered, flinging Fels back over to the dock with his pole so he could unhook her from the string. He lectured further, "If someone dumber than me had taken you up then you could have gotten simmered with a variety of veggies! Are you ignorant?"

"I thought maybe you would tell me where the yellow flowers are if you caught a fish." Fels admitted, although she was a little bit in the same place as him. This plan wasn't exactly the most successful nor smart. Innovative and creative maybe, but the execution was poor. This closely resembled many of her plans. Maybe she should talk it over with someone else before trying to fix a dead tree with a rubber band…as a completely random example.

Mousehole slipped the fish costume away from Fels and tossed it into the ocean. After a closer examination of his hand by rubbing his temples, then staring at Fels. The question rose in him like a wave against the shore until he asked, "Did you happen to see any fish while you were down there?"

Fels shook her head and reluctantly admitted, "No. There weren't any fish."

Mousehole set down his fishing pole and turned out over the great big blue. He sighed, and came to the realization he should have made long ago. There were no fish out there. He couldn't get what he wanted by waiting for it to fall in his lap. His whole life had been wasted following a false dream. A lie to himself created by his own laziness. How could he go on knowing this? The only clear answer was to sit down and accept his fate. He wasn't destined to find happiness.

"You know, there weren't any fish down there, but I did see plenty of mole hills and mouse holes." Fels offered, extending her limb, the creases of her robe a pat on the back for Mousehole. The big tabbycat stood up promptly and looked dumbfounded, gawking at the idea.

"Mice you say? I would love that." He was bubbling with excitement. His paws were quivering below his big tummy of lard. He wobbled over to the edge of the dock like a penguin, only to stop when he reached the edge, contemplating his next decision. Yes, there were mice down there, but it would be an awful lot of work to get those mice. Maybe it would just be better if he stayed here and sat down some more, sleeping all day.

It was at this moment Fels ran up and pushed him off the dock onto the flowers below. The foliage broke his fall, but she was still a little concerned she had killed him. The splash that ensued as flowers flew into the air and landed on the dock ad Mousehole was bigger than the old tabby himself. He rose right back up with mice in his hand, and dropped them in his mouth one by one like pastries. The cat let out a great big laugh and grabbed some of the flowers and splashed some onto Fels up above. "I say my lady! I feel like a kitten again!"

Fels was happy for the tomcat, but she still had one very important question that needed answering. She hollered to him as he enjoyed his feast, "Wait. Where can I find yellow flowers?"

Mousehole paw-sed for a second and tried to remember as he slurped up another mouse into his maw. He cleared his throat and pointed onwards towards the shoreline going east. "Head East until you reach Mayfly town. There's a train there that will take you up to Auda City. There's the finest flower shop in the world there. They'll have what you're looking for!"

Fels beamed in delight and smiled at the feline, "Thank you so much!"

"No, thank you M'lady. Best of luck on your adventure." He took off his hat and put it against his chest so he could bow to her; but Fels was already headed down the dock across the shore to this Mayfly Town. She had a destination, and she had no intention of stopping until she found it. The adventure was only just beginning.


	3. Mayfly Town

Mayfly Town

The sign for Mayfly Town was made of polished diorite, with bricks around the side, and a paper indication of the population, which Fels considered to be a little silly since people were born all the time, and how could anyone possibly calculate the population? However, she decided not to delve deeper into the conundrum since this fable wasn't about population. Instead, she noted the annoying clop and skid of walking along the soggy cobblestone. Fels couldn't help but notice how weird this town was in that it wasn't weird. So far, everything she had seen was out of the ordinary and unique. This town seemed average to the extent she would get bored of it easily.

Then she noticed the differences. The smell of honey in the air. The fact buildings were made up of big versions of small things. A horsefly-drawn trolley was made with soda cap wheels, and on that same note, it was worth seeing the not so subtle difference that every person was in fact, a mayfly. She guessed this was to keep with the name. Many towns loved to change the people living there for the sake of keeping with a theme by forbidding certain items or not talking about something a high-ranking official did to someone else. In that sense, the normal town was made even more normal by everyone wearing masks.

Fels had thought masks were something people wore often, since her mother often wore that one with the smile, but here everyone seemed to be wearing a mask. Some were…unsettling. Each was made of paper Mache, because it's a little-known fact that mayflies are very particular about plastic masks. The paper mache was so much better in that sense. Some masks had little smiles and cheerful expressions. Their bearers waved to Fels as she strolled through the busy streets. However, in the corner of her eye, some mayflies had on scary masks with teeth and red eyes of doom. They were busy spraying graffiti on one of the shop walls in an alley.

Fels stopped when sirens began to blare. In panic, she decided to stand still and watch what happens. She was the only one not wearing a mask, so maybe it was a good idea. So she saw a little thimble dressed up as a police motorcar roll down the street. The two flies with scary masks took off back down the alley, soon followed by two flies who Fels assumed were policemen.

The officers had interesting masks. Ones she hadn't seen on very many of the civilians, only around ten or twelve percent. These masks could look scary from one angle, but happy from another. Perhaps it was a matter of perception? That raised a question within Fels. Would a bad action committed by another cop alter the perception of cops in general? Would more people see the mask as bad than before? Surely that couldn't be the same for civilians. At least, she hoped that wasn't the case.

Fels decided it was too early to get philosophical about the situation. Maybe there was a reasoning to all this. So, she continued down the line of shops. Everything else was standard. Stores offered food, drinks, adult things like lamps. Ugh, lamps! Fels neared a corner where she could see what closely resembled a school made from an old box. She went to school once, but had to be homeschooled after things turned south. A bell rang, and swarms of young flies flew out the door to a set of yellow plastic bins that resembled school buses.

Some of the younger flies didn't have any masks on oddly. They had big bug eyes, like all flies, and flew right to the buses, happy to head home. Others already had masks from birth. Like they had already been decided who they were from birth. This made no sense to Fels, but she had been a little sheltered from things like this. A small group of Mayflies were gathered around a taller figure. Asking never hurt anyone. Well, unless you asked somebody to punch you in the stomach, which is kinda weird in the first place, but Fels was in no position to judge.

She clopped up to the group of Mayflies, who went up to the figure without masks and left with masks of all shapes and sizes. That gave her a bit of an idea where the masks were coming from, but she still tapped on one mayfly's shoulder.

"Excuse me?" Fels asked in her best 'I'm trying to be polite but sometimes I think I'm coming across as annoying' voice. The mayfly turned around to her, looking down at her with a happy face mask. It's voice was like a squeaky toy when she addressed the child, "Hello? What do you want?"

"Oh. Um…" Fels was a little caught off guard by the rude response, but she still determined for the answer. She cleared her throat and piped, "Why is everyone wearing masks?'

"Masks? What are you talking about girl?"

Fels thought that the masks everywhere was obvious, but for a split second she wondered if maybe she was imagining it. Maybe she needed—

"I'm only messing with you kid. Everyone wears masks so we know how to treat others. Some people get masks at birth, since their family is part of a group of some kind. Actually... Aren't you supposed to have a mask? You may not be a mayfly, but I won't have you running around without a mask." The Mayfly woman picked up Fels with both hands and pushed through the crowd to the figure. Fels didn't have a good chance to see much, but she saw one of the flies putting on an evil mask crying underneath. She eventually lost sight of the bearer, but caught sight of something much bigger than a mayfly. It was an owl-like humanoid. It had an owl's head, but it had a humanoid body. It hulked over everything with a large hunchback. Its entire body was coated with straps and bags of masks. All of them seemed to be watching Fels.

Fels had decided she wanted to get away from the scary mask owl man. This executive decision had already been made, but unfortunately all she could really do was wiggle since was being carried around, rather roughly she might add, by a five foot mayfly. Abeforementioned five-foot mayfly decided it was a good idea to notify the giant owl man of their presence, like some crazy person. "Mask Maker! I have a little girl in a hijab who doesn't have a mask!"

"What does my religion have to do with masks?" Fels was extremely offended by this development. She had been raised with the choice to wear it, and she prefer she not be judged on it. Her mother had supported her on the decision. It was Fels' first real decision about who she was as a person, and if someone judged her on it, she wasn't afraid to use some rude language. That person was very stinky! That'll teach them.

"Does she now?" The owl man asked, his voice like soup pouring through some rusty tubes. He slowly turned around, big yellow eyes locking on Fels, who was wiggling as much as she could right now. She really wished she had arms sometimes. Finally, Fels was shoved right up in front of the owl man, her growing unease almost as ready to burst as her bladder.

The Mask Maker, as he was apparently called, leaned in his big beak towards her, investigating Fels with suspicion, his breath reeking of worms and moths. Or mayflies, but Fels really didn't want to think about that possibility. He hmmed and hahed for a minute or two before reeling away from Fels' personal space. She breathed a sigh of relief, then asked as he stroked his chin, "Who are you?"

"You haven't heard of me?" The Mask Maker seemed surprised, but he was kind enough to offer her the benefit of the doubt. This girl didn't look like a mayfly and, clearly, she was out of town. So he fulfilled her request and answered, "I am the Mask Maker, I tell people what to think of themselves and others."

"That's what all the masks are for? People choose what everyone thinks they are?"

"Oh. No. Nobody has any choice in the matter. As soon as they have one little characteristic that can be defined, like a race or religion, I give them a mask. Then everyone knows what to think of them." Mask Maker laughed a little, then added, "It's very effective."

Fels looked sick to her stomach, and gagged, ready to vomit. The mayfly woman quickly put her down, and gave her some space. Fels held it back then looked up at the Mask Maker, horrified. She shook her head, then glared in anger and sorrow, gasping out, "You have no authority to do that! That's not fair! People shouldn't be judged based on a whim!"

The Mask Maker laughed hard, nearly hacking up a pellet as tears rolled down his face, then he haunched up, making himself bigger as he bore down into Fels. The yellow eyes full of hate and apathy. With great articulation, he repeated his main point, "I just help people reach a conclusion without having to meet a person. That way, they can act against them or with them without any personal consequences. It makes it easier for them to distance themselves from those who…have unfortunate circumstances. Those with plights that could not be avoided."

"That's all because of you! You influence people into judging others without choice! I don't want to be here anymore. I want to get on the train and leave!" Fels walked backwards, and the Mask Maker began to near her, his talons stomping and clicking against the pavement as he neared the child. He had become enraged, and was on the verge of asserting his ideals onto her. No, not on the verge. He knew he had to show it was what had to happen.

"Little girl…perhaps you'll be more enthusiastic to the idea if you had a mask yourself." He reached out to grab her face, but Fels was having none of it. She took off running from the owl man and the people. She passed shops, houses, alleys, motorcars, and didn't stop running until she ran out of breath.

Her mind was fuzzy and her brain hurt. She didn't want to think about that bad owl man any more. Or any of those people with the masks. She wanted to go home and curl up into a ball, let herself sink into the big black. Fels sat down on a patch of grass nearby. The small park she was in didn't have many trees, but that didn't matter. She just lied down. She hadn't been judgemental had she? Maybe that's why Mousehole had decided to be so far from other people. Or why her mom was…the way she was. But it would get better. Fels knew it would get better. It had to, didn't it? Just find the yellow flowers. You'll never have to do this again. Just get on the train, the world won't be like this forever. Everything will be better. Just…endure.

Fels climbed to her feet, cold and scared. This must be what mom felt like, heh. She turned toward a fly on a bench reading a newspaper. Her boots damp as rain began to pour down, forming in puddles of grey spillage, Fels pattered to the fly and coughed. She didn't want to be a bother, but she figured she was already overstaying her welcome here in Mayfly Town. The mayfly man pretended not to notice her, flipping through his newspaper and bringing it closer to his face. Fels spoke up, hoping he would help, "Sir, do you know where I could find the train station?"

The man waved her off and groaned, "It's down the street, then turn left. The station will be on your right."

"Thank you." Fels turned towards the street ahead then walked along the sidewalk, following the man's directions until the big black façade of the train station came into view. This was only indicated by a white sign with a blue picture of a train. Reluctantly, Fels went up to the lobby and soon was waiting for a train on a bench besides the tracks. Beside her was a mayfly woman and her larva waiting as well. She was busy reading through some documents, and her larva was suckling on a pacifier.

Fels noticed them, but didn't become personally invested. She did become worried. Some owls had flown in and were now staring at her from the supports of the station. She tried not to make eye contact, but the same could not be said for the birds. Their big yellow eyes watched her consistently, glaring her every move. Fels could feel her heartbeat, and nobody and nothing had made her feel welcome here or anywhere else. The train pulled up for her, and the doors opened for the passengers. She lumbered aboard and sat down on the near-empty train, thinking about her situation.

Nobody had been kind since she set off. She wanted to head home and just stay with mom. She didn't like these people and...and-

"Excuse me, are you alright? You seem glum." A voice like a harp asked from the seat next to her. Fels redirected her attention from her own misery to look towards the voice. A young man in a long colorful coat like a rainbow was sitting there, looking concerned for her. Fels was surprised to have someone actually worried about her wellbeing out here in the middle of nowhere, so she hesitated to respond.

"It's alright. You'll make it. Just hang on, ok kid?" He extended a hand, "Name's Gil. Just looked like you needed to hear something like that."

Fels was a little dumbfounded, so she stayed quiet, even when the man got up and left for his stop. As soon as the train left, this 'Gil' vanished from sight. Like he was never there to begin with. But his little of gesture of kindness remained. He was right. She'll get through this. And when she did, the world won't know what hit it.


End file.
